House of Cards
by forsakenphoenix1
Summary: A house of cards will eventually have to crumble to non-existence. These are the thoughts of Sirius Black during his sentence in Azkaban--reflecting on his friendship with Marauders and how, they too, like a house of cards, crumbled.


**House of Cards**

_Summary: A house of cards will eventually have to crumble to non-existence. These are the thoughts of Sirius Black during his sentence in Azkaban--reflecting on his friendship with Marauders and how, they too, like a house of cards, crumbled. One shot fic. _

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_How do those perfectly situated cards crumble so beautifully when it's their time to fall...?_

The irony of the situation is unbelievable. The one person that we trusted was the one person who betrayed everything we believed in. Why couldn't I see it coming? _Because it was meant to happen._

There are always going to be a few select people that you are willing to trust your life with them. The Marauders were those that I trusted with my life, my secrets, and my deepest desires. Who thought that one of those people would, in fact, betray your best friends to their death and cause even more injustice to the situation? Who would have thought that it was the most unlikely person that it _was_ in fact likely? Peter always was a follower; we just never thought that he would go as far as betrayal for power. He was our **_friend_**.

Define friendship, though, friendship in Peter's situation. I wonder if Peter had ever defined friendship and perhaps if he did, would he have still done what he did? Would he have let loose all the bonds that held us together as friends, just for one _fucking_ moment of glory? I wouldn't have. But I'm not Peter; I honestly wouldn't know what he was thinking. And I'm glad that I'm not Peter because if I was, I sure as hell wouldn't be able to live with myself.

Okay, friendship, what is it really? What _was_ being a Marauder, really? Notice, I say _was_ because now, the Marauders are dead. Aren't we? What is there left now? There is no James, James is dead. James was our fearless leader, who was just so noble and passionate about everything and everyone around him. _Everyone_ looked up to him, me included. Why wouldn't I look up to my best friend, my partner-in-crime? He was everything I wished I could be and more…and I was his dark secret kept hidden beneath layers of skin. We contrasted each other perfectly that it was only fitting that we were the best of friends. It was only plausible that the Marauders would crumble with the crumbling of our friendship. Now, without our tireless, fearless leader—we were nothing but bumbling cowards. At least, I was without James. I lost my cool whenever I wasn't near James, which is perhaps why I spent so many nights in my parents' home, being beaten down endlessly, because I didn't have the nerve to bite my tongue and listen to their tyrannical rants. There was no Sirius or no James—it was always Sirius _and_ James or James _and _Sirius. None of the Marauders were individuals—though we tried so hard to be. We all tried so hard to be individuals, I guess, but being the Marauders tore that idea away from us. We were the Marauders, no longer individuals, but part of a group of friends that would die for one another…or so we pledged. I wonder what happens to oath breakers like Peter…will he get his comeuppance in the end as I have, but will his be as torturous as a life sentence in Azkaban? For, in a way, I did break the oath of the Marauders by betraying James to Peter.

What about the rest of the Marauders? Would we still be the Marauders with only three of us? No, not without James—not without our leader. Peter was just as good as dead in my eyes. After careful deliberation, after sitting hours in this dark, dank cell with only my worst memories as company—I had come to the conclusion that Peter _is_ dead and I might as well be dead too. Azkaban wasn't going to let me live, even if I knew I was innocent. Even if I knew that, I _am_ innocent.

So who of the Marauders was left? Remus? I irrationally thought during the days, weeks, and months before James's death, before Azkaban, that I knew for a fact that Remus was the one to betray us, to betray the Order. How could I have been so foolhardy to believe sensible, cautious Remus was anything but that? Remus was the head on our shoulders—the one who carefully planned out each detail to ensure that nothing went terribly wrong. He was the one who someone could go to just to talk—and he would listen. Sometimes, secretly, I thought that Remus was the paragon of friendship. And me, stupid, ignorant me thought that Remus was a spy—how could I believe Peter over Remus, when Peter was the one who was only walking in our footsteps just for attention? I wonder if Remus would ever forgive me…

So what did friendship mean, in terms of the Marauders? Was it being able to talk to the others without fear of being made fun of for whatever was on your mind? No, it wasn't that simple. Was being friends with the Marauders knowing that even after a huge row that we would eventually forgive each other, no matter how awkward it was for a while? No, it wasn't that easy. So what was it? It was this indescribable feeling of knowing that no matter how many times you fell or how hard you fell—they would always be there to catch you. It was this feeling that our friendship could do anything, would do anything, and would go to any means to help each other. It was these hopes that even in face of the destruction of the world—we would still have each other. And then I realized that in one split second, our definition of friendship faltered, all because of suspicions and lack of faith.

If, in the past, someone had once said that, one day the Marauders would be no more—I would have scoffed in their faces and boldly claimed that the "Marauders would live forever!"

Now, if someone said that there was no hope left for the return of the infamous Marauders—I would have to sadly agree. Now, I wonder if anyone at Hogwarts would remember the notorious Marauders and our tale of how we fell apart, and though desperately we tried to stitch ourselves together—in the end, our friendship was never meant to last. Who would have imagined that it was the Marauders that were betrayed by the very means of friendship?

It sometimes seems that everything the Marauders did and everything we are remembered by, is just a dream, only because it all crashed down upon us in an instant—too fast for us to save ourselves. I hope that Peter is thinking the same things that I am and I hope that he feels guilty. He deserves the guilt and he deserves every ounce of pain that guilt causes him at it eats away at his precious little heart. Peter never had much of a heart though, did he? Now that I recall Hogwarts, he wasn't as emotional as us—never let on to what he was thinking, and only piped in once and a while to add a comment to a thought or prank. If only I had noticed certain things about him that are so blatantly obvious now but were so subtle when we were trying to find the spy within the Order. No one ever thought that it could be poor, little Peter Pettigrew who followed the Marauders around everywhere; he was too weak, too pitiful to become one of Voldemort's minions. But I guess even the best of us underestimate the power within someone; even Dumbledore never would have guessed that it was Peter. Peter who muttered our secrets to the shadows of an endless night, Peter betrayed his best friends to the point of death.

But what about the Peter who would sit up through the night, despite being tired, just to listen to one of his friends talk? What about Peter who went to any means possible to help make sure that our pranks were the best and could never be beaten? What happened in those cold, lonely hours of the longest nights that made Peter decide that all he wanted was power and giving up friendship was worth that? What did he think about when he spent all hours of the day contemplating whether it would be worth it in the end? Why can't someone answer that? What the bloody hell did he think about? Why did he even _need_ to contemplate it? Surely, friendship was all the mightier than power? Wasn't it better having someone to fall back on instead of someone pushing you ahead of them to be the first to fall, without being there to catch you? I just don't understand what he saw—what could Voldemort offer to him that friendship didn't already give him? **Power**. But friendship _was_ power, only in a way that Peter never understood. I just wish that I could understand what went through his mind in the last hours of James's life. Did he feel scared, guilty, or unpleasantly happy about his newly gained power amongst Voldemort's ranks? Was his leader's death worth this newly reached status? **Was it, Peter?! **

I guess I might as well be going mad, talking to myself, in these long, lonely hours at Azkaban prison. I feel torn between anger and acceptance of my sentence. Surely, I was angry with Peter for betraying James…for turning his back on the friendship that we offered, and making _me_ look like the betrayer. I too was betrayed. What did he prove with that stunt he pulled, leaving me in the wake of a disaster that left me face down in the dirt of reality? I know that he proved that I no longer had someone to fall back on. Remus probably believed every word that was now running through the newspapers and the WWN by now—lapping it up like a dog. He probably believed that my punishment was justified for James and his wife, Lily's death. Secretly, I think that Remus loved Lily just as much as James did and even I must admit that she was an extraordinary witch…no matter how bitter I was that she stole my best mate. Lily was the only one who could truly understand Remus's complex emotions and even when he felt like absolute shit because of who he was, what he is—she always found a way to prove to him that he was worth something and he was an exceptional person, inside and out. The monster he became once a month was not who he truly was and I think that Lily was the only one who could convince him of that. Yes, she truly was an amazing person.

But life in Azkaban doesn't seem like nearly punishment enough. It wasn't I who sold them to Voldemort, but it was I who foolishly handed their lives to the one person who could. And knowing that it was partially my fault that they were dead caused a heavy burden to fall upon my heart—_that_ was punishment enough. I didn't care much whether or not Remus would forgive me for what I did—if he ever found out of my innocence but it was rather the fact, _would I ever forgive myself?_ If I wasn't so bold, so rash…if I had thought it over…would Peter have been my first choice? I can't really figure that out now, it's too late anyway. But sitting here, reliving the worst of my memories really makes wonder and reflect all those 'what ifs'. I bet a thousand Galleons that if Dumbledore were here and heard me say that, he would say, "It doesn't do to dwell on the 'what ifs', only on the here and now"…or something to that effect. Sometimes, when I was younger, I thought that he was a bit mad. But now I realize that he wasn't mad, but he is, indisputably, the wisest man ever living. But Dumbledore is not here to comfort me with cryptic messages or to offer a constant listening ear, and I am left to mull over the events that have left me nothing more than a hollow shell of the man I once was. I wonder if James could find it in his heart to forgive me. Would he forgive Peter? What were James's last thoughts when he found himself face to face with Voldemort? Did thoughts of the Marauders rush through his mind? Was our fearless leader finally afraid? Was he angry with Peter for his betrayal, when even I thought that James would remain safe, his secret locked within Peter's soul? I can't help but feel that this all could have been prevented if it wasn't for me. The blame always seems to come back to me and I spend sleepless nights thinking of how their house looked after the attack. How Harry looked so unaffected by the disastrous world around him. Baby Harry…my only living connection to the friends that I once knew and those that thought I knew. But yes, even the best of us are misled, misguided to make mistakes that result in catastrophic events. Peter was just that—misguided, and I misjudged him and his capabilities.

If Remus knew of my innocence, I think he would be saying something like, "You can't blame yourself. It _was_ Peter's fault. You made a mistake, one that all of us made by trusting Peter. Do not blame yourself, Sirius; it will only make matters worse." I wish that Remus were here and he was saying those words because I more than likely would have listened to him. Remus has a way of soothing even the most upset and he too, is one of the wisest people I've met and I look up to him for that. James and I were the reckless ones and Remus made up for all that we lacked. Now that I think of it, I can't quite understand where Peter fit into all this. I guess we just took him under our wings in hopes that one day; he would turn out into a loyal friend and companion. We were young, and we were deceived. Maybe it was Peter who was the one to be deceived. Power, glory, and fame deceived him. We were just blinded by this "holy, white façade" he wore. Azkaban sure makes you think a lot. I just wish there was someone here I could tell all my thoughts to. Remus, Dumbledore, even McGonagall would be a fine choice—I always swore she had a sensitive side that truly missed us once we stepped into that big bad world. But I just can't help but wonder where we went wrong. What did the Marauders do, or me, in particular, to make Peter feel as though he had nowhere else to turn but to Voldemort? Was he desperate, or did he do it on his own free will? It's almost disconcerting to live through the age where the Marauders, the indestructible group of friends, actually crumbled—and from the inside out. It's almost like a house made of cards—one wrong move and the entire structure crashes down and you're suddenly hit with the reality that if a house were ever to be made of cards—it would eventually fall. It wouldn't always have to be because of one wrong move, even the slightest change of wind could make a card, or two slip. But then, you also realize that the house is only made of cards and the fall that you are watching is inevitable. This fall that I have taken, this path that _we_ have chosen was one that no one saw happening, including ourselves. But this time…this fall…there was and will never be anyone to break it.


End file.
